IS*9. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Chap. Coprright Xo. 

:^(^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



JAN 14 1899 



BENEATH BLUE 
SKIES and GRAY 



COPYRIGHTED 1898, by 
ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL 

Printed in the United States of America 



i WO COi^tES 




JAK 141899 




STf. a. Bassette Co. 

Winchester Pari 
Springfield . Mass. 






BENEATH 
BLUE SKIES 
AND GRAY 

POEMS BY 
Ingram Crockett 




PUBLISHED BY 

R. H. RUSSELL 

NEW YORK 



^%^r 






2:U59 



To My Wife and 
To My Mother's Memory 



Contents 



In Haunts of Wildrose 

The Oak Wood 

The Garden of Night 

In the Night 

The Winter Oaks . 

The Vision 

Black-Eyed Susans 

On Green River . 

Beauty 

A Walk at Sunset 

Here 

A Cloister . 

Autumn Days 

A Voice 

Redwing 

The Shining Hosts 

The Quiet Chambers 

A Longing 

A Call . 

The Dav is Done 

The Passing of Day 

Eventide .... 

Late Afternoon in November 

A Clearing .... 

The Cross 

Frost-time 

The First Blackbird 

Ceres 

A Cloud 

Come . ... 

Whate'er Befalls Me 

Cow Bells .... 

At the Bend of the Creek 

The Antilles of the Sky 

Shadow . 

The Clover Blossom . 

A Prophecv 

The Vireo ' . 

The Dusk is Deepening 



PAGE 

9 

lO 



itontcnts 



PAGE 

A Sunset 54 

A Presence 55 

The Cedars 57 

Yule-Tide 58 

An April Song 62 

October 63 

My Heart With Longing 64 

A Mood 66 

The Hills 67 

The Minstrel 68 

Foretaste ........ 69 

TheKilldee 70 

Morning 71 

Dawn 72 

Longing 73 

A Knight 74 

Invitation 75 

A Spring Road 77 

Audubon 78 

Serving Brothers 80 

Winter Davs 81 

The Retreat 82 

Afterward 83 

A Meeting 86 

September Days 87 

A Morning Song 88 

The Inca's Daughter 89 

At Washington's Grave 94 

Sunset on the River 95 

The Unattainable 96 

The Deserted House 97 

A Deed 98 

A Summer Night 99 

Good Brother Trees 100 

Affinity loi 

The Wind and the Leaves 102 

A Little Lake 104 

The Grave in the Forest 106 

In the Afterglow 108 



Beneatl) Mint pities antr ©rag 

CI)E When God pronounced his work all good 
©all He must have thought of the old oak wood, 
Wootl Of the old oak wood on an autumn day 
With the sunshine goldening all that way 
And the glistening leaves of red and brown 
Qiiietly, dreamily drifting down. 

He must have thought of the redbird there 
With wings a-flash thro' the amber air, 
Of the bowed brown weeds that humbly wait 
For the touch of the frost that soon or late 
Will bring them death : of the asters white 
In starry clumps on the hillside bright. 

And the bending plumes of the golden-rod 
All must have been in the thought of God 
And the woodpecker's music, clear and strong, 
Tapped on a dead limb all day long. 
And the silken gossamers lightly spun 
Floss of gold from the loom o' the sun. 

And he must have heard the meadow-lark sing 
Far off there in the world's first Spring, 
The meadow-lark's song o'er the hilltop rise 
To the dreamer standing with misty eyes 
At the edge of the wood, and listening lone 
To the flutes of memory faintly blown. 



2ri)e The west is glowing crimson 'neath the feet 
(SarUcn Of her the beautiful, the passing Day, 

of And, softly bright, the new moon lights the way 
JBijIjt Into Night's garden that is dewy sweet 

With blossoming stars : where bright browed visions meet 

And in love's converse thro' the quiet stray 

To where the fountains of the wind at play 

Make pleasant music. Time, with slower beat 

Of thy strong wings pass o'er this garden fair ! 

Nay, rest thee here, and haply lost in dreams 

Thou wilt forget some wildrose blooming long 

To gladden earth, some young heart void of care. 

Hark ! Can'st thou hasten when 'neath silvery beams 

Thou hearest the rapture of the thrushes' song? 



aScneatTj Blue ^feics mXs ®frag 

^n t^t From out the cold vast of the night 
jQiffi)t I heard it crying, 

And thro' bare trees the moon stole white 
A ghostly thing ! 

I asked the wind, the veiled stars, 

The clouds, on flying, 
" What voice is this whose wailing mars 

Sleep's boui-geoning ? " 

And my heart replied : " 'Tis a memory. 

In fear undying, 
That vainly from itself would flee — 

A cursed thing ! " 



^ Mook ot ilocms 

Cfje Gray bards of Winter standing calm and still 
Winter Upon the hillside, tell me all your dreams 
(B^kS For I am weary and the world meseems, 
For all its gospel, is than you more chill. 
I come in weakness, lift me up until 
I breathe your vigorous air lit with faint gleams 
Of frosty sunshine. See the far-off streams 
And to your wind-songs feel my pulses thrill. 
Ah, blessed bards that truest comrades all 
Know the good ministry of stars and sun, 
In waiting restful while the world doth toil ! 
Unto your loving strength my soul doth call. 
O make me strong that 1 may be as one 
With peace communing 'midst the w^orld's turmoil. 



»3 



JScttcatfj aSluc pities mXs ©rag 

STfje The moon, a slender silver horn, 
^Stfiion Gleams on the rosy-baldricked morn, 
And, milky white, the mists below 
From frosty fields are rising slow, 
And with a rapture as of Spring 
The thrushes in the treetops sing. 

The waiting world is very still 
Before that vision on the hill, 
That vision that is never old, 
Of Morning with her bow of gold. 
And in a golden leash the Sun 
Leaping with eagerness to run. 

Oh, hark ! the silver horn is blown, 
Its witchery is round me thrown ; 
I saw it touch the Morning's lips 
Held in her rosy finger-tips, 
The world is very still to hear 
That fairy music faint and clear. 



^ ^ook of ^loems 

'^lacll: Tawn gypsy children of late Summer days 
epci Camping beside the meadow where the sun 
^n£iatl£t Wakes hot, wild perfume and bright webs are spun, 
Soft silken pitfalls of the grassy ways, 
Wherein you laugh to see the bees that praise 
Your loveliness, fall blundering, in elfish fun 
Nodding your heads to see them thus undone 
Or dancing with the wind in hoydenish plays. 
Soon will the Frost, freebooter, pitiless, 
March down upon you stealthily at night 
And you be captive, in your helplessness 
Standing before him whose one law is might ; 
Serving in tatters, suffering his caress, 
And left to perish when his hordes take flight. 



aSeneatfj Blue %km antr ©rag 

©n The tall catalpas, all in white, lean 
0Vttn far out o'er the stream ; 

Ribtr In little fleets their blossoms float where 
runs a silvery gleam ; 
The halcyon falls, a flash of blue, the 

hawk in circles slow 
Mounts up and up until he's lost far 

in the golden glow. 
O Ao, hoi ho, boys walk along-! 
O ho, hoi ho, boys ivalk along-'. 

The sunlight smites the river hard, its 

ripples flash a-fire, 
A murmuring music's in the leaves, 

a glad aeolian lyre, 
A fisher sits beneath the shade, the 

sunlight sifting thro' 
Below, above, he sees the clouds float 

softly in the blue. 
O ho, hoi ho, boys walk along! 
O ho, hoi ho, boys walk along! 

A fret of silver runs across the 

current's molten gold, 
The fingers of the wind are there in 

merry touch and bold, 
The sweet-brier dances to the tune 

the wind and ripples play 



^ Mook of ^loems 

©n There at the bankside 'midst the ferns ; 
0VttXl and all the hazels sway. 

Httirr O/i, ~j:alk along ^ boys, zvalk along! 

.ntinned) Wg'H oret there bv and b\\ -ivalk aloncrl 



The raft comes slowly round the bend, its 

long sweep dripping light 
As lifted, dipped, by sinewy arms, it 

steers the raft aright ; 
The raftmen's tent is cool and white — 

there comes a whiff of smoke. 
The last, pure fragrant offering of hickory 

or oak. 
Oh, ivalk along, boys, ivalk along I 
Say, hurry up your dinner, ivalk along! 

O days beneath the bright June sky, 

O days so fair and fleet ! 
Like blossoms treasured in a book, that 

faded yet are sweet ! 
O rugged raftmen at the sweep with 

brown bare arms and strong, 
There is a chord in memory that 

vibrates to your song ! 
O ho, hoi ho, boys ivalk along! 
We'll get there by and by, ivalk along! 



Bmeatft Blue ^feies antr ©rag 

^eantp When round the white, uplifted, holy brow 
Of some tall peak a halo of pale gold 
Thro' gathering dusk, doth rapturously hold 
Our eyes and thoughts, and lift us from the slough 
Of sordidness that Beauty may endow 
Us richly with her treasures manifold. 
Shall we in marts where lives are bought and sold 
Straightway forget her in some Mammon vow? 
Shall we shut out the music of the sea? 
Or slight the flowers that fair hands upreach 
Like little children, prattlers at the knee 
Of Nature, mother eloquent to teach? 
Ah, having all things, poor indeed were we 
Undowei-ed of Beauty, knowing not her speech. 



91 Ah, how I love this quiet way 

Walk That leads me from the town 

at That leads me from its smoky sway 

S>ttll6Ct To pleasant meadows, bi'own. 

The woods are flecked with red and gold 

The willowed creek is low, 
And in its shadows, dank and cold, 

The Cardinal flowers glow. 

The hoary fences, misers, count 

Their stoi-es of golden-rod, 
The milkweed's winged children mount 

From many a silken pod. 

Broad fields are purple with the plumes 

Of sinewy ironweeds. 
And roses that were crowned with blooms, 

Wear strings of coral beads. 

The silent couriers of the Dusk 

Wait in the shadows deep ; 
The tall corn, still in untorn husk, 

Seems drowsing into sleep. 

Now hangs the red globe of the sun 

Upon the brink of night ; 
And silently the mists are spun 

In gossamers of white. 



19 



BeneatJj Blue ^km anlr iffirag 

31 The grass is crisp beneath my feet, 
3^alil A leaf is shaken down ; 

at The stars come out — the way is sweet 
ibtttUSet That leads me back to town. 



(Continued) 



That leads me back to home and her 
Whose love o'er all I prize, 

Who welcomes me with lips of myrrh. 
And smiles and love-lit eyes. 



)ere Here pours the creek its bubbled tide 
In circling currents, slow, 
The deer-berries nodding at its side 
Sun-kissed are all aglow. 

Here willows in long olive lines 

Dance to the water's tune, 
And, fragrantly, from hidden shrines 

Are wafted prayers for June. 

Here cobweb bridges sway and swing 

Beneath the Wind's light tread ; 
And, touched by some sweet thought of Spring, 

The maple buds turn red. 



BeneatJ) J3Iut pities antr (&rag 

31 The silvery pipes of sparrows softlv blown 
Clotfittr From rose and holly thickets, and the flute 

Of a meadow-lark from fields that else are mute — 

And in the oaks the wind's low monotone. 

And thoughts that thrill me as I walk alone — 

Thoughts sweeter than the music of a lute 

Swept by Hght hands. No triflers here dispute 

With jangling voices over the unknown, 

Nor wild, rough words jar on the strings of peace 

That breathe the melody of true content ; 

But faith is crystal clear and joy is deep : 

For here my God doth me a cloister keep 

Near to the hills where Heaven and earth are blent 

And all the discords of the dark world cease. 



1 aSoob ot ^|ocm9 

O gentle days of Autumn ! 
O holy days of gray ! 
That with an inner rapture 
In meditation stray — 
How peaceful 'tis to follow 
With you to lead the way. 

To follow where the sumacs 
Like candelabra, red, 
Light brakes of brier antl hazel, 
And leaves are thickly spread 
A carpet, russet-golden. 
That rustles to the tread — 

Through flower-haunted places 
In misty meadows, low, 
Or by the winding creek side 
To hear the waters flow — 
The happy waters singing 
A song that poets know. 

Or up the steeps of hillsides 

Thro' pearly-tinted grays 

Of sweet life-everlasting, 

To see the mellow haze 

Far breathed o'er the landscape — 

A quiet world that prays. 



23 



ijcncatlj Blur pities aiiD (Grag 



SLutumn But sweetest when I follow 
^aV6 With you, and fails the light 

(Continued YaT ill the magic westland. 
And gently comes the night. 
And trembling on her bosom 
One little star of white — 

To hear a tender message. 
A spirit message clear — 
A voice from out the meadows 
Thro' mists that falter near, 
That holds me as 'twere music 
Of Heaven upon my ear. 

A bird, and yet a spirit 
Of time long, long ago, 
Who. by the shore of twilight 
Beneath the day's last glow, 
Doth on the pipes of mem'ry 
A lovelv flute-call blow. 



^ Book of ilJoems 

91 I hear it oft in the deep o' the night, 
Soice Callings calling to tne^ 

When laughter has passed, love, laughter, and light. 
Callings call i fig to me. 

What does it want in the night so deep? 

Calling., calling to, 7ne. 
Why does it moan in the halls o' sleep ? 

Calling., calling to me. 

I cannot go for the way is cold 

Callings calling to me. 
Leading down by the oak tree, old. 

Calling, calling to me. 

I cannot go for fresh is the sod 

Calling., calling to ?ne. 
There where the thick-leaved hazels nod. 

Calling, calling to me. 

What have I done, O God, in the w^ay .? 

Calling, calling to me. 
There where the thick-leaved hazels sway.? 

Calling, calling to me. 

Why does the moon wear a shroud to-night.? 

Calling, calling to me. 
() God, must I look on that face so white 

Calling, calling to me? 



33eneat|) 33Iue %lm^ mxti iSiag 

KelrtDinff Winged flame and flute of Spring, 
You the woodlands hear I 
Tips of twigs are shining clear, 
And the blackbirds sing. 

March's color-bearer, true, 

Lo, the tents of green I 

And the maple's fires between. 

Bright to welcome you. 

Lover of the misty sky 

And the golden shower ! 

Warder of the budding hour 
When new dreams are nigh — 

Tell me when vou came, and how, 

In what magic way ? 

Yesterday the world was gray. 
It is rainbowed now ! 

Ah, to follow where you go 

On your joyous flight ! 

Kindling, with your wings of light. 
Flowers on meadows low. 

Winged flame and flute of Spring, 
Happy, we who hear I 
While the bright'ning buds appear, 

And the blackbirds sing. 
26 



^ Book ot ^otm^ 

CI)f Seraphic vision I Day is done, and see I 
§>I)intn3; The hosts of God with shining wings outspread 
|)0fit6 Filling the world with glory, upward led 
To holy heights where burns eternally 
The white, unwavering flame of purity. 
Or is this that great company of dead 
Which passed in darkness, now transfigured 
In wondrous beauty, beckoning to me ? 
I know not now, but One doth sui-ely speak 
Out of the rainbow, from the stars of Night, 
And from the splendor of this passing light : 
And Him, and Him alone, my soul doth seek. 
Surely He calls me thro' these visions bright, 
Surely He waits me on some heavenly peak. 



27 



Beneati) Blue pities antr (JSrag 

^l^j Far overhead the icy West wind roars, 
(Buitt Whipping the tree-tops with his furious lash 
Cham= Till all the creaking boughs together clash. 

Ijpj^g But here the brown leaves on the windless floors 
Lie all unruffled, and the sycamores 
That love the streams, with many a hardened ash 
Moss-boled, unmindful of the crash 
Above them, rise from peaceful shores. 
Here broods the spirit of eternal peace 
Giving the benison of golden calm, 
While wildest storms break on the world above. 
These are the deeps where strife and clamor cease, 
The Quiet Chambers odorous with balm 
That speak the restfulness of God's own love. 



28 



a Mook ot Ipocms 

9L A longing, strange and sweet, 

LonstUff Comes o'er me when I hear 

That guiding call so clear 
From noiseless wings that beat — 
Wedging their way to rest 
Far in the charmed west, 
By some calm water, deep, 
By some still, mist-hid stream where 
dwelleth sleep. 

Ah, may I, too, some day 
Find the far happy isles. 
Where after weary miles 

I shall with loved ones stay ; 
And know without surcease 
The blessedness of peace. 

Yea, end this cloudy quest 
In some clear, rainbow land where 
all is rest. 

O longing strange and sweet ! 
Beyond this mystery 
My Leader calls to me : 

To bear me up and on 

Where my beloved are gone. 

Breaks now a clearer light — 
I hear His call and know that all 
is right. 

29 



33€neatfj 33Iut ^feies antr (&rag 

2L O spirit of the Winter wind, of gray 
Call clouds hanging low, 

The message that you bring to me is 

clearest that I know — 
And I will follow where you lead 

adoNNni the wooded steep 

Where in the winding hollows lie the 

brown leaves fast asleep. 

And you shall tell me of your dreams 

and I will tell you mine, 
While listening to that song I love, the 

wind-song of the pine : 
Ah, yes, in God's wide chambers where 

the light is full and free 
Yet softly shining thro' the haze of life's 

old mystery. 

O spirit of the Winter wind I hear you 

calling now : 
" Come out 1 come out 1 " you seem to say, 

** beneath the leafless bough 1 
Where bloom the flowers of the frost 

in all their crystal grace, 
And tangled in the ironweeds are webs 

of snowv lace." 



^ aSook of 4|<iems 

I hear the waters flowing over ice 

like fluted pearl, 
The wild ducks northward beat their way, 

the plovers round me skirl ; 
And with his rhythmic hammer taps the 

flicker all the day. 
And woods are weft with colors of 

the redbird and the jay. 

The world is housed, but you and I 

may wander where we will. 
And list the music of the woods, or low, 

or high and shrill — 
Or in the meadow lie at rest among the 

broomsedge, tall, 
And hear, far-off, a spirit voice, the 

meadow-lark's clear call. 

Glad spirit of the Winter wind I hear 

you calling now : 
" Come out ! come out ! " you seem to say, 

" and keep with me a vow ! 
For we must make a pilgrimage 

to worship at a shrine 
Deep in the woods, where ever sounds 

the wind-song of the pine." 



aacncatfj mm pities antr ©rag 

^{)0 Down sinks the glowing red disc of the sun 
^jp Behind the dark oak wood, and floating bright. 
is 2)one Gold-roseate bubbles on the brim of night, 
The little clouds evanish one by one. 
And twilight deepens and The Day is Done. 
The Day is Done, and with its passing light 
How much of weariness, how much of blight 
That in the morning with its tasks begun 
Our hearts undreamed of. Ah, me, good is rest ! 
Profoundest rest without a thought or dream. 
Without a glimmer of the day to be, 
Without a memory' of the strife, the quest. 
Small thought the toiler has for morning's beam 
But only from his labor to be free. 



at Hook oi ^otnx^ 

C1)C A little while at sundown's splendid gate 
Pafifiing: She lingering stood, and looked adown the way 
of 3Dap Her feet had trod, and, looking, seemed to pray 
For her dear hills, in love compassionate — 
For her dear hills who thro' the years would wait 
To greet her coming, true to her for aye — 
Forgetting her not among the gay 
Succeeding days — a memory consecrate. 
And in great tenderness she gently laid 
Bright golden chaplets on each brow, and, slow, 
All wrapped in rosy mists did softly fade 
Into the past, yet left an afterglow 
Of wondrous beauty whereon white stars made 
A wide-meshed net of splendor hanging low. 



33 



Bcneatfj I31itc ^feies antr ©rag 



C^entlUc The romping winds that swiftly pass 
Make waves and dimples in the grass. 

The wheatfield, purpling fold on fold, 
Is starred with sheaves of harvest gold. 

Xew carpeted from Summer's loom 
The meadows pink with clover bloom. 

The willows downy lint of white 
Is shaken windward silken bright. 

A child's shrill cry, a far-off song 
Upon the silence float along. 

The dusky robes of nearing Night 
Are softly fringed with orange light. 

And in the linden hanging low- 
Diana's sharp-tipped silver bow. 



34 



^ liDofe of ^Pocms 



Late The garnered fields are betted round 
9[ftcr= With leafless woods of gray, 

noon in And to the rhythm of keen winds 
ItJoticm-- The branches sway. 



ber 



O'er head, on lazy loitering wings, 

Against a cloud-ribbed sky. 
With out-craned necks and mocking caws 

The crows flock by. 

The tented army of the corn 
Waits in the lowlands, brown, 

The sun drops hazily behind 
The smoke- wreathed town. 

Now quiet hushes with mute touch 

The whisper'ng grasses, tall, 
And, standing tiptoe, waits to catch 

Night's first foot-fall. 

A bar of red gold gleams athwart 

The west and groweth dim 
And fades, and darkness overflows 

Deep twilight's brim. 



35 



Beneatlj Blue ^feies antr (ffirag 

91 There comes a vision of a bright spot cleared 
Clearing Within a deep, deep wood of oak and pine, 
A little cabin where wild grape-vines twine. 
And gourds for swallows on a tall pole reared 
Sway in the breeze : a memory endeared 
By youth's associations, clear sunshine 
That thro' life's clouded days has e'er been mine 
And with its gladness has my pathway cheered. 
A little clearing whei'ein woodsmoke curled 
In fragrant incense from a happy hearth, 
And melted softly in the blue above. 
A little home uncaring of the world, 
Of pleasant books, of health, of faith, of mirth. 
Wherein there dwelt the blessed angel Love. 



at ^ook ot ^(JDcms 



STI^e Th' expectant wood that late had gentlei' grown 
CrOfiifil Watched, waiting for the advent of the Spring; 
The sun hung low, I heard the robins sing, 
And far-off bells across the meadows blown ; 
The world was very still, and I, alone. 
Walking slowly homeward with my thoughts awing 
To seek the mystery of the soul, to bring 
Some certain token from that land unknown. 
When lo ! from out the west a ray of gold 
Far-reaching, glorious, touched a distant spire 
And bright'ning upward, gleamed, a holy fire. 
Upon The Cross. O God of love untold 
Cannot we trust Thee that this deep desire 
Shall find fruition when Thy gates unfold ! 



37 



Bemati) Mm pities antr iJSiag 

jFr06t= T^^^e sycamores' white branches are 
ttuie tipped with yellow leaves, 

The sparrows gossip cozily beneath 

the red-haw's eaves, 
The poison-oak shoots slender flame 

up thro' the poplar's gold, 
And the aspens are a-shiver at the 
step of coming Cold, 

The blackgums glow in purple along 

the woodland's edge, 
The reddening osage-oranges lie thick 

beneath the hedge, 
The sumacs, scarlet-coated, nod by 

the gray fence-rows. 
And clematis, as white as snow, 

across the fencetop flows. 

The silver silken gossamers are 

twinkling on the hill. 
And with a gentle loneliness the fields 

are all athrill, 
There's stubble in the cornfields, 

and mottled gold and brown 
Of rich tobacco in the barns — and 

fleets of thistledown. 



38 



a ^ook of IPoems 

iFrofit- The yellow plumes of golden-rod are 
time turned to grayish white ; 

(Continued) ^hc Creek is low, its stilly pools 

with fallen leaves are bright ; 
The hickory-nuts and acorns lie 

thick upon the ground, 
And wild grapes hang along the 

limbs of thickets they have bound. 

O, now, 'tis sweet at dusk to hear 

the whistle of the quail , 
To walk beneath the day's last glow 

knee-deep in grasses pale ; 
To hear the low of cattle, and the 

clatter of the bars ; 
To watch the crystal twinkle of the 

first of many stars. 

And in the morning early, when the 

east is all a-tinge 
With the glory of the coming, when 

beyond the woodland's fringe 
In silence wells the beauty of the 

day-spring flowing near. 
And falters down the hoary hills 

in quiet white and clear — 



39 



BmcatJ) Blue S)fetes mtj ©rag 

JrOSt- Oh, then, when robins twitter and the 
time wrens are chirping nigh, 

(CoHtinued) j^^-^^ maples flash another dawn to 
greet the dawn on high, 
There's ecstacy in breathing, yes 

a tang in all the air, 
A rapture in the very blood that 
makes one laugh at care. 

Oh, lusty Frost-time, kiss the leaves 

and turn them rosy red ! 
And let all stars the brighter be that 

shine out overhead. 
And trail the mists like silver 

scarfs across the meadows, low. 
And over all the glamour of thy 

happy presence throw. 



40 



a iSodfe of ^loems 

QLi)t Upon the elms there lay a mist of green, 
jFirSt The maple buds were red, the fallowed fields 
•?8lartt= Were smoking in the sunlight, and the wealds 

hivti Were softer grown, and winds, no longer keen, 
Breathed life into the violets ; clouds serene 
Were drifting in the blue, their shadow keels 
Dark'ning the meadows, where, with song that steals 
From some far spirit land, the lark is seen. 
Then sang the blackbird joyously a-swing 
Upon a willow o'er a bubbled stream. 
The sunlight glinting on his burnished wing. 
His song the echo of a sylvan dream 
Of some delightful clime where flowers fling 
Their golden largess to the Constant Spring. 



i3eneat|) 33Iut pities antr ©tag 

Cerefi The amber wheat, the silvery r^-e 
Flowed down on either side 
The brambled fence : the western sky 
Was dappled far and wide. 

With shining flecks of golden light, 

And one white, trembling star 
Looked out upon the sea of Xight 

Across a rosy bar. 

The moon, a thread of silver, hung 

Low tangled in the trees, 
And dimpling grasses softly sung 

The lyrics of the breeze. 

Then, while the rosy light grew less 

And faded from the blue. 
Came Ceres thro' the quietness 

With fragrant dusk and dew. 



a Book of ^Poems 

91 O mighty Cloud above yon wooded slope, 
Clonll Thy garments golden tinted, art thou he 
Whom late I saw in warlike panoply. 
The fierce sword flashing, with whom none might cope? 
Behold thou seemest an angel, now, of Hope 
In dazzling raiment, beckoning to me 
On heavenlier heights to follow after thee 
At whose command the gates of morning ope ! 
Ah, mock me not, nor lead me on to shake 
Thy awful thunders o'er my helpless head ! 
But be thou tender as thou seemest now ; 
And 'neath thy shining wings a shelter make. 
Smile thou upon me lest I be afraid 
And wear, for me. Love's aureole on thy brow. 



43 



Mtmatb iSIue ^feies anU (JKrag 

(Some ! Come ! the lusty morning star 
Pales above a rosy bar ! 
Redbuds pui-ple, dogwoods white, 
Glimmer thro' the faery light. 
Thro' the greening meadow, wide. 
Flows the mist a silver tide ; 
Passion breathed whisperings, 
Love songs that the robin sings, 
Rainbow dewdrops twinkling new 
Golden clouds and deeps o' blue — 
These shall lead us, these shall bring 
Laughter dimpled hopes of Spring. 



W))^tt'tV Whate'er of agony of heart be mine, 
•^Befalls Whate'er of labor ere my race is run, 

0it Of weary darkness ere my day be done — 
I shall remember how the dear stars shine : 
The mystic music of the wind and pine, 
The unspeakable glory of the passing sun. 
The gossamers in looms of Morning spun. 
And, where I worshiped, the deep woodland shrine. 
I shall remember to my latest breath — 
And may I hear the vesper sparrow sing 
In passing, and behold the sunset light 
Even unto the very gate of death ! 
And after that — dear God I pray Thee bring 
These that I love unto me thro' the night. 



45 



Beneatl) Uhtt ^km antr (Krag 

CotD Music of quiet lanes, O mellow bells, 
^tlle I follow where you lead adown the way 

Unto the creek where nods the drowsy day 
Lulled by light ripples, and the blue flag tells 
Her dreams unto the dragon-fly — where dwells 
The heron, sage, whose sober thoughts ne'er stray 
To laughing waters or the notes you play 
O golden voices ringing thro' the dells ! 
No poet, he, but cold philosopher ! 
Leave him, lead on, the dew begins to fall, 
A clear voice calls us from the trysting bars. 
The meadows, hills, are one soft fragrant blur, 
And in the rose, above the wood's dark wall, 
Trembling like dewdrops shine the early stars. 



3[t tj)e Snow petals lay 

•^enl On the grasses, gray, 

of t^t At the bend of the creek where the waters tinkled 
Creell Softly as wire 

Under ice, like pearl, 
All fluted and curled and frost besprinkled. 

Laughters that sleep 

In the current, deep. 
Soft dappled with shadows of glistening umber. 

Bubbled, awake. 

At the pebbly break, 
Rippled, and sank once more into slumber. 

And a redbird came, 

Like a shaft of flame 
Shot suddenly down thro' the silence and whiteness ; 

And a quail piped clear 

From a cornfleld near. 
Then dusk, and stars, and the night's cold brightness. 



47 



BeneatTj JSlue ^fetcs antr ©frag 

Cl^e I saw, when the wind of the west blew free, 
9lnttlle6 Gold-clustered in a silver sea, 
of tl)e The fair Antilles of the sky 
^fep That off the coast of sundown lie — 
Gold-clustered, with an inner light, 
Above the flowing tide of Night. 

The charmed waves go singing there, 
A chastened glory fills the air. 
And song is crowned, and ever swells 
Her praise as sweet as silver bells, 
And thro' a vale that dreamers know 
The poppy-broidered rivers flow. 

And on a level spot is seen 
A try sting place of beryl green. 
Where fragrant drifts of sunny snows 
Are touched with tints of pearl and rose 
O'er-topped by that transcendent peak 
Of perfectness that poets seek. 

And in that realm of faery dwell, 
In gardens bright with asphodel. 
The souls of poets past the scorn. 
To sweeter life, thro' death, new-born. 
And beaut}- leads them evermore 
Along a music-haunted shore. 



48 



^ 3Soolt of ^onm 

^baloto Gray clouds hang o'er the fallen sun, 

And meadow-lark's flutes are faintly blown 
From far meads, o'er the cornfields, dun. 
Lying low and lone. 

Fine and thin are the mist-shrouds spun 
By Night's cold hands now the day has flown, 
Shrouds all white for the cornfields, dun. 
Lying low and lone. 

Stillness : save where the little streams run 
Whisperingly. and the wind makes moan ; 
And darkness bows o'er the cornfields, dun, 
Lying low and lone. 



49 



aScneatTj Bliit %'km ant ©rag 

(3l)C The rain, from shining rainbowed skies, 
ClolJer Blew soft against my cheek, 
^lasdom I had gone forth into the fields 
Their restfulness to seek — 
And stood where I could hear the low 
Clear carol of the creek. 

The clover blossom by the way 

Bent down to kiss my feet, 
But I, in all my sinfulness, 

I could not think it meet — 
I worthy to but touch the hem 

Of robe so pure and sweet. 

And by the clover blossom, there, 

I prayed that I might be 
As worthy ; that my Lord might come 

In tender love to me. 
And on me place the perfect grace 

Of lowly purity. 



50 



E Mook of iPoems 

A sadness brooded o'er the earth, the sky 
Was one dull blur, the silent, sentinel trees 
Upon the upland, mist-wreathed to their knees. 
Seemed watching ever for young Hope gone by 
With all her trains of happy minsti^elsy — 
The bright-eyed smiling hours, the birds, the bees, 
And brooks that know all artless melodies 
And all the forest children fair and shy. 
When suddenly from out the mist there came 
A flute-like note : so true, so clear, so sweet — 
Such as the thickets know when winged flame 
The cardinal comes his own true love to greet. 
Ah, welcome prophecy ! Let sadness claim 
The earth awhile — soon Spring and I shall meet. 



51 



(ri)C P'ile sunshine flickers in the dewy brake 
Sirro Beside the creek where liriodendrons, tall, 

Lift high their golden cups, and raindrops fall 
Like splendid jewels that the breezes shake 
From rainbowed skies, and vireo doth make 
The woods delightful with his mellow call — 
A music of sweet reeds that filleth all 
The leafy chambers, and bright dreams awake. 
Far off the world seems to me, sitting here 
O'er-arched with delicate green, and on my heart 
A great joy falls, for I am one of you 
O trees, O stream, O vireo singing clear I 
Escaped forever from the noisy mart, 
A white cloud dreaming in the tranquil blue. 



52 



^ Mook of ^oems 

Cbt The dusk is deepening, and the wizard stars 
^ttSk is That set adrift all dreams and mysteries 
^ttptn- Walk on the marge of Night; no discord mars 
inff The quiet hour's clear pulsing harmonies, 

The beat of innumerable lives in grass and trees. 

Hushed is cicada ; when the level light 

Failed in the treetops, sank to earth's wide rim, 

His shrill voice ceased ; then did the crickets smite 

Their harps in unison in solemn hymn. 

Lighted by dewdrops in leaf-chambers dim. 

Dost hear Lord God these myriad voices small, 
Mine own with theirs, that cry here in the dark. 
And pass with Summer, pass beyond recall 
As in the night an outward-flying spark. 
These little lives of ours dost care to mark .'' 

Why should we know.-* the Summer night is sweet, 
The stai's are fair, love's lips are very near — 
Why should we know if we with Thee shall meet? 
These simple songs of ours to us are dear 
Would they be sweeter knowing Thou dost hear? 

These simple songs of ours, we'll sing them o'er 
And joy in one another — who can see 
Beyond the portal of that dark "No More ?" 
The future is all shadow — let it be. 
If Thou art Love 'twill brighten unto Thee. 

53 



Bettcatfj Blue %km antr €^rag 

3L Spirit Immortal surely this must be 
^uneet A vision of Thy glory : on the hills 

A beauty not of earth, the light that fills 
The chambers of Thy presence eternally ! 
And in this quiet Thou art near to me, 
Yea, surely 'tis Thy very touch that stills 
My soul's unrest, and these Thy little rills 
That know Thy voice are prattling unto Thee. 
Oh, 'tis a holy time ! unto my soul 
A benediction of unchanging love, 
Waking the chords of memory and tears : 
While softer, tenderer shines Thy aureole. 
And one by one are lit Thy stars above, 
To lead me on thro' darkness and thro' fears. 



54 



31 When to the wind the wildrose lifts pure lips, 
Presence And in a quiet place the vireo sings, 

While, molten gold, the dewy sunshine drips 
Leaf-filtered on his happy song-thrilled wings — 
When trumpet vines red-clustered on the hill 
Blow joyous welcome to the huntress morn, 
And fragrant-robed beside clear pools and still 
The elder dreams o'er watched by ranks of corn — 
I see her passing, samite-clad and fair. 
With mists that melt into the golden air. 

Nor is she absent from the wintry wood 
Where frost-stars shine in all their loveliness, 
She bringeth there her gracious gift of good. 
She walketh there in beauty none the less. 
Above her glow the heavens rosy cold. 
To every twig there comes a clearer grace. 
The moss is greener on the oak tree, old, 
There is a welcome in each sheltered place — 
And music there of mellow reeds and true 
Whereon, one day, God Pan a parting blew. 

true beloved of the stars and fields 

1 would that I might follow where you lead ! 

O'er fresh-plowed earth, thro' all the happy wealds. 
By sparkling waters in a fragrant mead. 



55 



l^tmatb Blue ^feies antr (JKrag 

91 Or deep into the winter's crystal core, 
presence Or where the leaves fall, scarlet, red and gold ; 
(Continued) Sq J might follow — loving you the more, 

Look in your face and with you converse hold. 
I see you beckon, but with fettered feet 
Far off I follow in your footsteps sweet. 



^ Book oC ^dems 

CI)C Silent, dark-browed, and cold you seem to me 
Cellars Seen from this bright hillside where redbuds glow 
In ardent beauty, and the winds that flow 
In warmer currents bear to many a tree 
A subtile impulse that exquisitely 
Goes wavering upward till new blossoms blow 
And tender tips of green the branches know 
Melodious with the murmur of the bee. 
Yet I forget not, thro' keen winter days 
Your kindly arms outstretched did keep the herds, 
And now within your pleasant rooms the birds 
Watched o'er by you sing love's own tenderest lays ; 
Their nestlings safe, lulled by your whispered words 
And that great wind-harp which a spirit plays. 



Bertcatlj asiuc g)fei(s ant} (ffifrag 

pule-- Now upon the soul's broad hearthstone 
^itit lay the crimson brands for lighting, 
With the charm of touch and whisper 

wake the bright warm-hearted flume, 
Till it, rising, kisses softly all the 

arches bending o'er it, 
Till the winged sparks go singing thro' 
the night Love's holy name. 

Lusty mistletoe be bringing, boughs of 

cedars, wreaths of holly ; 
To each heart a cup of laughter 

touched by gracious vestal lips. 
Now the disc of every sorrow joy 

shall circle with a halo. 
As the sun hangs golden banners 

round the shadow of eclipse. 

Long within the soul, God's Temple, dark- 
ness festooned hung forbidding, 

Draped the windows barred and leaden, 
draped the gnarled and studded door — 

While with fitful flare and flicker 

danced the Yule-light hollow hearted 

As wild Superstition moving, dancing 
on the stained floor. 



S8 



^ Book of ^locms 

Long the angry sparks sang : " Hatred ! " 

hate of brother unto brother ; 
Long the mistletoe was severed with 

a sacrificial knife 
Sheathed oft within the bosom 

of a hapless human victim : 
Telling of a hideous worship 

and the creed of life for life. 

But at last an oriel window set 

toward the hills of morning, 
Where with reverent brows uplifted 

pray the mighty peaks of Hope, 
Thrilled with prescient thrill of 

glory as the Day Star shone upon it, 
Thrilled as thrill a parent watcher 

'neath a blessed horoscope. 

Sudden dust that dropt and vanished 

fell the rotten folds of darkness, 
Thro' the oriels' veins translucent ran 

a ruby current mild ; 
Clusters, there, of roses blossomed, lilies 

swung their snowy censers 
O'er a mother, and a manger, and 

the sweet face of a child. 



59 



BcncatTj Blue ^kics anir ffirag 

PuU' All the Temple was transfigured and 
CiHe a silent benediction 
(Continued) pg]! ^^ ccdar, fell on holly, fell 
on pearl-strung mistletoe. 
" God," they murmured, " and not Odin," 

*' Christ," they murmured, "and not Balder,' 
And awed Superstition, kneeling, 
heard forgiveness whispered low. 

Swung the door upon the hinges, 

and the angels of God's Heaven 
Sti'aightway came within the Temple 

singing songs of holy cheer. 

Sang they all of Jesus blessed, 

sang they of His peace eternal 
Spanning all the broken earth 

clouds like an emerald rainbow clear. 

Stay, sweet angels, ever singing carols 

to my Lord and Saviour, 
Sing : " He oped the orient portals 

with a rosy baby hand ! " 
Sing : " He suffered more than 

martyr, making earth with feet of sorrow, 
While behind him joys and blessings 

blossomed in the desert land ! " 



60 



a Book «( ^oems 



APOSTROPHE. 

Lord we stand upon the margin 

of that ocean stretching outward 
Far beyond the isles of knowledge, 

far beyond the mount of Light — 
Only Love can hear its billows 

breaking on the shore Hereafter, 
Only Faith can see Thy Heaven 

bathed in everlasting light. 

Then in this Thy dearest gift-time 

when to us Thyself Thou gavest, 
Give us Faith and Love to guide 

us teaching of Heaven and Thee — 
Lest we fall to idle talking with 

doubt walking close beside us. 
Lest we say, with Him : " Hope 

never ! all beyond is shoreless Sea 



Mtmati) 33Iue ^kies antr ©rag 

3ln Oh, the peach is in pink and in white is the cherry, 
9tpril And the pipe of the bluebird is mellow and merr}-, 
^ong: And the little frogs cheep 

From the green rushes, deep. 
And the baby clouds lie in the blue fast asleep 
Asleep — While the bluebird is merry. 

At the edge of the wood how the maple is glowing. 
And the windfiowers nod to the creek in its flowing, 

And the sap's running free 

In the heart of each tree, 

And the little leaves laugh in their nest all aglee 
Aglee — and the creek answers, flowing. 



63 



Dim are the emeralds of dead Summer's crown, 

And to her throne, where rubies flash and glow, 

October comes with queenly step and slow, 

Pale asters braided in her tresses brown. 

The blue curled banners of the mist hang down. 

The milkweeds bolls are white with silken snow, 

The thistle's silver argosies out-blow. 

And insect voices chant their Qiieen's renown. 

With tender eyes of happy, dreamful light 

She looks abroad on spreading fallow lands, 

On soft gray skies and wooded hillsides bright, 

The aged Year's offering in her outstretched hands : 

The partridge pipes a welcome : leaping white 

The brook sines welcome from its leaf-strewn sands. 



63 



33rntatfj 33lur ^feits antr i&ra)) 

ifLv My heart with longing turns to meadows lowly, 

|)taTt That lie wood-broidered, in brown, t\\nlight lands ; 

tDttJ) Where come the constant stars, God's watchers holy, 

LflttffiES And Peace awaits me \N-ith dear welcoming hands. 

My heart with longing turns to thoughts that guide me 
To one white brook that knows the woodland ways, 

AMiere thro' glad hours, with Poesy beside me, 
I dream the dreams of June's bloom-scented days. 

My heart with longing turns to sunsets burning 
A splendid flame low thro' the frost}- wood 

Netted with naked tvvigs : ah, thither turning 
I greet the oaks, a sturdy brotherhood. 

The days we toil, the days we toil and languish 

Brought slaves of Mammon, answering to his whip ! 

How much they bring of heartache, bitter anguish, 
God's happiest children bear nor purse nor scrip. 

But far away within some quiet valley 

They walk ^^^th da\^-n. or darkness, led of stars 

To thoughts of beautA-, thoughts that musically 
Fall soft as moonlight where no discord mars. 

O God, of all this slaven,- I'm a-wean.- '. 

Thy hills, Thy fields. Thy streams, Thy winds are free 
While I, their master, in a bondage dreary. 

Grind in the mills that shall at last grind me. 



a Uoofe of lloems 

Help me to break these bonds, these fetters galling! 

Lo ! on Thy hills, lit with a splendid light, 
Thou dost reveal Thyself, Thy glory falling 

About Thee as a garment flaming bright. 

O Vision of Eternal Beauty, Vision Holy ! 

Blest is thy radiance on my longing heart — 
A light to lighten me in pathways lowly 

And I arise, for joy and strength Thou art. 



;^00ll I passed a lonely house upon a hill, 

And in the west the winter sun was low — 
While fragrant offering of the forest still 

The thin, blue spirals of the smoke rose slow. 

And then it seemed, I cannot tell thee how, 
I was a brother to the trees and stood 

With sturdy trunk and curved, up-reaching bough 
One of the patriarchs of that gray old wood. 

The days went by in vailed procession, dreams 
Stirred in my fibre, dreams fantastic, dark. 

Like deepest night lit by the fitful gleams 
Of smouldering camp-fires in a forest stark. 

I felt the touch of unseen finger-tips 
Dim-sensed ; a hand relaxed and cold ; 

I heard the babble of unmeaning lips. 

And shivered groping downward in the mould. 

What was it that I clasped there cloven thro' 

With axe of stone? a something fleshless, round ; 

And memory waked within me and I knew 

Long years before blood darkly stained this ground. 



66 



ST^t What dreams have these gray hills that silent lie, 
l^iUfit The sun-bright cornfields rustling at their feet? 
The wind that brings new color to the wheat 
Puffing the snow-white argosies of the sky 
Rain- laden for some distant land and dry? 
Dream they of that dark time when, wild and fleet, 
The storm rushed shrieking by, and burning sleet 
Fell hissing in the floods, when lifted high 
They took on form in agony of fire. 
And sinking down their Titan Mother Earth 
Seemed, groaning, with this labor to expire 
Leaving them trembling in their swaddling girth? 
See, sullenly behind them storm-clouds dire 
Unbidden spectres of their fiery birth ! 



67 



13cntatf) Ulut ^feies anli Grag 

Of The red-\\-ing blackbird, minstrel of the Spring, 
;^UU)ttti Returned, a wanderer from the Southland sang 
In gusty hills of March his roundelay — 

And all the greening hills were listening 
To hear his mellow voice that sweetly rang 
Across the meadow in a song so gay. 

*• Love, love." sang he, *' the sunbeam loves the dew, 
The bee the blossom, and the tawny stream 
Seeks broad lagoons the haunts of lilies fair, 

'• The clouds all day lie nestling 'gainst the blue, 
The glow-worms woo the stars, the tall oaks dream 
Of April with a violet in her hair. 

'• Seek out a mate : soon redbuds on the hill, 
And dogwoods white, ^vill blossom ; build a nest 
And weave into it all your brightest hopes. 

*• Xo sweeter happiness the heart can fill. 
No other way leads into such true rest : 
Seek out a mate, and up the sunny slopes 

'■' Of rainbowed lands go singing with your dear 
Or bv the misty willows o'er the brook 
\\'here bright Spring-beauties open to the light. 

*• Love, love," sang he, •* 'tis love-time of the year. 
And hearts are lost and won with but a look ; 
Go build a nest while all the world is bright." 

6S 



JForetaete At eve, a worshiper, I stood 

Within the temple of the wood. 

Still thro' the western windows came 
Long slender shafts of rosy flame. 

Aeolian vespers breathed low 

Did tremble o'er my heart, and flow. 

And kneeling reverently there 
I felt the circling arms of prayer. 

Then, mighty-voiced harmony, 
I heard a song of victory. 

And from my soul an answering voice 
Sang full of rapture : " Soul rejoice ! " 

" Rejoice, O Soul, for thou shalt see 
The face of Immortality ! " 

And lifting up my chastened eyes. 
Behold the walls of Paradise ! 

A misty splendor lifted white 
Above the utmost peaks of Night. 

Then failed my vision, but I knew 
The voice within my soul was true. 

And from the holy stars there fell 
The benediction : " All is well !" 



69 



Q[,^f. When shadows creep along the bar, 
tttUHee -^"^ "^ the rose there comes a star, 

And trees grow black against the sky — 
Where ripples break 1 hear him cry 
Killdee! Killdee ! 

He cuts the dusk with silver wings, 
And round the level bar he swings, 
And up and down in flashing flight 
He screams across the van of Night — 
Killdee! Killdee! 

Ah, memories that come to me 
With thought of days no more to be ; 
And tears, as floating with the stream 
I hear him cry as in a dream — 

Killdee! Killdee! 



70 



A dappled sky of gold and tender blue 
Whereon are traced, an etching fine and rare, 
A great elm's graceful top of fan-like flare 
And one tall poplar rising straight and true ; 
Now from deep cups of frost doth Youth renew 
His lusty strength, and breasts the sparkling air, 
While life beats high and earth's surpassing fair 
With that old beauty which is ever new. 
Ah me, my heart, we too must dance a spring 
Here on the crisp, white sward, we, too, be young, 
And wear no more the chains of lethargy — 
Trim all our fancies to Hope's upward wing. 
And live as joyously as brooks that tongue 
Their silvery music, coursing down to sea. 



JSeneatl) 3SIue ^km anlr iffirag 

^aton A breath in the boughs, and the little 

leaves stirred in their sleep, 
And the stars passed out in the gray of 

the eastern deep. 
Then, woven by dreams, the rose, and 

the pearl, and the blue. 
For the white feet of Dawn, and the 

dewdrops trembled and knew. 



72 



a aSoofe of ^locma 

Lonjinff I'm sick of the smoky city 

Where busy cares confine, 
And I long for the mountain heights where sweet 
Is the balmy breath of the pine. 

Ah, there are the crystal fountains, 
And there is a restful shrine ; 
And there I would cease from toil, and breathe 
The healing breath of the pine. 

I'm sick of the endless battle 
Oh, if parole were mine ! 
So far, far-off seem the heights of peace 

Where the unstained banners shine ! 

I faint in the ceaseless conflict ! 
Great Captain strength is Thine ! 
Help, oh help ! that at last I may reach 
Rest, rest on the hills Divine. 



73 



Beneatft Blue ^kim antr iffifrag 



91 No herald sounds his name, 
feniffi)t Unknown save to a few, 
Yet is his armor bright, 
And he is leal and true. 

He strives, yet takes no shame 
If he to dust be trod, 

He strikes with all his might. 
And leaves the rest with God. 



74 



When from the beeches, old, 

Flakes of red gold 
Fall by the river, gray, 
Or lightly drift away 
Upon its current, cold, — 
When from the dreaming wold 

Passes the day — 

When shadows drowse and sleep 

In hollows deep, 
And quails pipe here and there. 
And white frost stings the air, — 
When bright leaves He a-heap. 
And winding woodways keep 

A welcome rare — 

Come, when thro' Sundown's gate. 

Yet roseate. 
The peaks of sunset land 
Bathed in clear amber stand. 
While Twilight's pennons wait. 
Low-drooped, till Night, in state. 

Leads on her band. 

Come, Sweetheart, then, to me 

With laughter free ! 
And on thy cheeks the glow 
That April's redbuds know, 



BeneatJ) iSlue ^feies antr (ffirag 



^nbtta* Come in love's witchery, 

tion Curls kissing lovingly 

(Continued) Thy throat of snow ! 

Come ! ah, my pulses feel 
A rich warmth steal 
Along them strangely sweet 
They know thy coming feet. 
Thy laughter's silvery peal, 
And to that music leal 

Love's measures beat. 



76 



^ Mook of ^oema 

A ribbon spun of threads of gold 
It winds thro' undulating green, 
Gray mists sleep in the hollows, cold, 
The ridges dance in jeweled sheen ; 
Like roseate clouds the redbuds glow. 
And thro' the woodlands, tinged with hope. 
The dogwood's stars as pure as snow 
Shine in a happy horoscope. 

The mocking-bird is joyous there 
In wild parabolas of song. 
The oaks hang out their tassels fair. 
And there glad-hearted blackbirds throng. 
And when, as soft as thistle-down. 
The dusk has fallen, comes, in white. 
Sweet Hesper thro' the shadows, brown, 
And scatters there the myrrh of night. 



77 



Beneatft Blue ^feies anlr (Krag 



SluJttbon Not with clash of arms, 
Not 'midst war's alarms, 
Thy splendid work was done, 
Thy great victory won. 

Unknown, thro' field and brake, 
By calm or stormy lake, 
Lured by swift passing wings — 
Songs that a new world sings — 

Thou didst untiring go 
Led by thine ardor's glow, 
Cheered by thy kindling thought 
Beauty thy hand had wrought. 

Leaving thy matchless page 
Gift to a later age 
That would revere thy name — 
Build for thee, surely, fame. 

O to have been with thee, 
In that wild life and free. 
While all thy birds passed by 
Under the new world sky ! 

O to have heard the song 
Of that glad-hearted throng, 
Ere yet the settlers came 
Giving the woods to flame ! 



78 



^ iSoofe of Querns 



^tttniion O to have with thee gone 
(Continued) Up the white steps of Dawn ! 
Or where the burning west 
Crimsoned the wild drake's breast ! 

Yet better than bays we bring 
Are the woods whispering 
When life and leaf are new 
Under the tender blue ! 

Master, awake ! for May 
Comes on her rainbowed way — 
Hear thou bird-song again 
Sweeter than praise of men ! 



79 



iBeneatfi Mint ^feies anlr ffifrag 

^crtoinff O, Serving Brothers, in the fight 

%xat^tXfi The foe will often taunt you ! 

But if your souls be strong and white 

There shall no danger daunt you ! 
A ring of fire your swords shall flame 
Around your Leader's Cross and Name ! 

Then ask not for a nobler thing 

Than to be truly serving ; 
To love that Spotless One, your King, 

With love that knows no swerving, — 
To strike like Galahad the pure, 
To murmur not and still endure. 

Behold the battlements aglow 

Above the clouds that darkle ! 
And round the lifted domes of snow 

See fervent light out-sparkle ! 
The Holy City ! God waits there 
To give you rest and garments fair. 



80 



it Mook of 43<ieitts 

Winter There is a beauty in the Winter sky 
Dapc That Summer knows not, a diviner glow, 
A chaster coloring, and the hills of snow 
Are nearer Heaven than the hills that lie 
All indolent in bloom ; the winds that sigh 
Thro' brakes of drifted leaves and murmur low 
Their threnodies, a peace more perfect know 
Than those that dally with the butterfly. 
Great thoughts are born in many a leafless way. 
And faith that fails not when the stars are hid ; 
And courage steadfast as the rocks which break 
The ocean's rage — and spirits such as they 
Who built this land — earth's noblest pyramid. 
Which God forbid the storms of Time shall shake. 



8i 



JSeneatfj Blue ^feies antr (Krag 

2rj)C With broken ranks and flags that fly no more 
Eetreat Like joyous falcons, the torn cornstalks go 
Into the valley, sullenly and slow : 
Yet on the hilltop stands the last tall corps, 
The valiant rearguard battle-stained and sore 
For this defeat, braving the hosts of snow 
And charging sleet, while shrilly trumpets blow, 
And overhead rolls on the steady roar 
Of the Wind's artillery. O Love ! O Peace ! 
Blest be your coming to earth's battlefields 
With seeds, that, springing, hide this wreek of war ! 
The golden harvests and the fair increase, 
And that good measure which contentment yields ; 
Till only greed and wrong shall men abhor. 



82 



1 



m Book Oi ^OtVXQ 



Slftct'- The burial was over, and the words, 
toarU The blest, immortal words of Christ were said. 
The neighbors had departed, he alone 
Stood by the grave and watched the sunset flame, 
And mused on life and death, and on the change 
Now come to him, beholding her no more. 
Close by his feet the violets bowed their heads 
Like little children lisping evening prayers ; 
The wind-flowers swung white censers, and a cloud, 
Blown like a snow wreath o'er the deeps of blue, 
Wore sudden glory and so passed away. 
Ah, very oft he had come here with her 
And watched the flowers and the gi-eening fields. 
And dogwoods drifted white against the hills. 
She had so loved the Spring, in simple faith 
Accepting it as pledge of life to come ; 
And ere she died was lifted up to see 
Far thro' the open door the purple glow 
Of redbuds waking at the forest's edge. 
The bloom of nearer orchards, cherry, peach, 
The flocking blackbirds and the April sky ; 
The spicy-fragrant raindrops pattering loud 
Upon the mossy roof, the Springtime sun 
Flooding the trees with splendor, and she smiled, 
And sinking on her pillow murmured oft 
The lines of some loved anthem, and so slept. 
O memory, memory, thro' what tender scenes 

83 



3$eneat6 38Iue %km anlr ©rag 

9[fter= Misty with tears he walked again with her ! 
toarll Low-voiced was she, and quaint, dear accents gave 
(Continued) An old-timc flavor to her homely speech ; 
And all her hair was silvered, and her eyes 
Held twinkling laughters in their deep blue depths 
And largess of true tears for those who weep. 
And oft she leaned upon him, saying : " Son 
You are the staff of my old useless age 
And God will bless you ! " 

Homeward thro' the dusk 
He, passing, treasured these sweet words of hers 
And to his grief they were as precious balm. 
So when he reached the creek where lightly spanned 
The rustic bridge, a dear, familiar place. 
There bubbled in his heart a song that flowed 
To music of the ripples, thus it ran : 

I follow on, I follow on. 

The way T cannot see, 
But all the day and all the night 

Thou callest unto me. 
And thro' the dusk, and thro' the light 

I follow after thee. 

I follow on, I follow on, 
How loving are thy feet 
That go before me in the way 



84 



fl ^ook ot ^oemg 



3tftcr= Unto that valley sweet — 

toarJ That valley where the blessed stay 

(Continued) And love IS all complete. 

I follow on, I follow on, 

I know that thou art near ; 
My soul looks out upon thy soul 

A vision sweet and clear — 
About thy brow an aureole 

My sainted mother, dear. 



85 



Beneatl) Mnt %km antr (J&iag 

21 I met my angel in a strange, wild place ; 
JHectinff I shall not soon forget his steadfast eyes, 
Before whose gaze no mantle is disguise. 
That fixed on mine, and yet meseemed love's grace 
He gently wore, nor came he to abase 
My stricken soul, nor with a scourge chastise : 
But looked as Christ on Peter, sorrowful-wise, 
Until with tear-stained eyes I hid my face. 
To feel, at last, his hand upon my head. 
To hear his words of admonition grave 
That gave me strength as when true prayer is said - 
That buoyed me up, a strong compelling wave 
Of sympathy, that whereat I was dead 
I lived again thro' cheer and hope he gave. 



86 



n Book ot ^<»ems 



Delightful days are these when Autumn masks 

In Summer's mantle and with sun-tipped wand 

Waves off the jeweled daggers of the frost. 

Now fi-om their setting of the lustiest green 

Glow the flame flowers of geranium ; 

The amorous cypress holding up his arms 

Would clasp the stars, the wanton touch-me-nots, 

Gay revelers in red and pink, and white, 

Hobnob together, and a conscious rose 

Blushes as if 'twere Springtime ; scarce a leaf 

Falls withered from the maples, and the Wind 

Oft fluttering down from some far height of snow 

Fans with its fragrant wings the brow of Earth. 

With patient love the Morning-Glory lifts 

Her shrunken palms aloft in prayer for dew. 

Long gossamers blow silvern in the sun. 

Or link the sturdy corn that half is clad 

In russet-gray and half in youthful green — 

Far-off, a golden band, the woodland belts 

The quiet pastures where the cattle browse ; 

And yet beyond aie hills that purpling rise 

In low, round billows broken, here and there. 

By giant branches flung against the sky 

In silhouette; and then the softer haze — 

Where Earth and Heaven meet — that unknown land 

The dwelling-place of mystery and dreams. 



87 



iSeneatS Blue %km antr (JKrag 

3t And it's hey and it's ho for the frost-white hills 
iPlomtngf And a splendid star in the rose o' the dawn, 
S>onff And a sense of brawn, and a thought that thrills. 
And the song of a bird in the treetops heard — 
And it's hey and it's ho for the frost- white hills ! 

And it's hey and it's ho for the sunrise paths ! 
When the light drips down in a golden shower ; 
And a sense of power, and the dewdrop baths. 
And the blood running free like the sap in a tree — 
And it's hey and it's ho for the sunrise paths ! 

And it's hey and it's ho for the upland way ! 
Where white and cool are the wings o' the mist, 
Where our lips are kissed by the maiden Day, 
And life has a spring like a bow a- string, 
Oh, it's hey and it's ho for the upland way. 



^ Book of 43oeitts 

Cl)e Scene. — Moonrise in the garden of Yucay. 

%XiVCi Oello discovered seated near a parterre wrought'in 

^au2()= silver and gold in imitation of grow^ing maize. 

\ZX The plashing of a fountain is faintly heard. 

Oello. 

" How pleasant 'tis to feel upon my brow 
The soothing touch of gentle guardian winds 
That tiptoe thro' these quiet halls of Night. 
How fragrant are their garments, and they sow 
Bright seeds of pleasantness that spring in dreams, 
And 'peace' they ever murmur — 'rest and 
peace.' " 

(Francisco steps noiselessly from the shadow 
and kneels at her feet.) 

Oello. 
" Francisco I " 

Francisco. 
" Yes, dear love, fear not, 'tis I." 

Oello. 

" Why art thou come? An hundred jealous eyes 
Watch here, and from these flowery walls may 

spring 
Swift, thirsting arrows winged with bitter hate ! " 

89 



iSeneatI) Blue ^feies anJ) ®iag 

Cl)c Francisco. 

plica's 1 1 g^^j. ^j^g ^^.jgf j^^^j^. J xhou'lt not deny me that ? " 

tf^ Oello. 

(Continued) 

" Ah, tempt me not with such a priceless houi-, 
Most radiant jewel on the breast o£ Time ! 
Lest, yielding, I should lose thee evermore ! " 

Francisco. 

*'One moment, then! See wrought upon this 

scarf. 
In i-ichest tracery of gold, a cross. 
Thou dost remember, dear, that pleasant day 
I lingered by thy side and thou did'st ask 
The meaning of this symbol, and I told 
Of my sweet Lord, Jesu, the only God. 
This scarf I always wear, this symbol pressed 
Close to my heart ; to-morrow night I'll send 
To thee, with this, Huascar of thy race, 
I saved his life at Cuzco, come with him. 
jVnd then — dear heart — " 

Oello. 
'•^ I hear the war drums beat ! " 

Francisco. 
*' One kiss! " 

90 



Uoofe of ^loems 



€\)t Oello. 

jr , " Francisco, O my love, farewell ! " 

ter Scene. — Night in the palace of Yucay. 
(Continued) Enter Oello with her father and his nobles. After 
a short prelude a minstrel sings. 



" In the thickest of the battle, 

In the fiercest of the fight, 
Where the lines are locked and writhing 

And the whiiTing arrows smite, 
Cheering on the hearts beneath it, 

As it crests the battle's wave. 
There is seen the rainbow banner 

Of the bravest of the brave. 

" Where the bucklers clash together. 

And the battle-axes, red. 
Rise and fall, and bloodier, faster, 

Pile the awful heaps of dead. 
Where the gushing tides of crimson 

All the trampling sandals lave, 
There outgleams the coraquenque 

Of the bravest of the brave." 

The Inca. 
Thou'rt listless, Oello, a battle won 
91 



JSeneat!) Blue ^feies anlr (ffirag 

gl^jjj Should'st make thy step more buoyant, light thine 
STnca'fl! eye 

^aufff)= With beams exultant, make thy cheek to glow, 
(jj And thrill thy soul with songs of victory. 
(Continued) Thou'rt pale ! thou'rt cold ! A daughter thou of 
kings 
And heard'st yon minstrel chant thy father's praise, 
And hid'st thy face and sighed. It was not well ! " 

Oello. 
" O noble Inca — father — " 

The Inca. 

" Speak not now ! 
Thy voice hath lost its music, it is faint. 
Uncertain like a harp by novice touched. 
Sit here and thou shalt hear me speak instead. 
Perchance, to hear thy father tell the fight, 
Thou'lt get more courage in that downcast eye. 
Before the tassels of this morn shook down 
Rich golden pollen on the silent hills, 
Our bravest, stepping cougar-like, marched thro' 
The city gate, and gained the wooded slope 
Behind the Spanish camp — Each heart beat quick, 
Each hand was clenched on battle-axe or bow, 
Each nostril quivered and each eye was set 
To look on death. There in the dew-dusk lay 



9^ 



CIjC The hated foe — asleep save here and there 
^Tnca'fii A spectral picket glided back and forth. 
^att3;I)= Then shield to shield, a line of plumes that tossed 
ter Like tall maize shaken by a sudden wind, 
(Continued) We rushed upon them beating them to earth. 

Some shrieking fled, some snatched their arms and 

fought 
As fights the Oscelot, hedged round with spears. 
One warrior among them, gleaming bright 
In burnished metal silver-like and fair. 
O'er threw five nobles, shouting his war-cry. 
Then, coming in the press, I dashed my shield 
Upon his head and struck him with my axe. 
He, reeling, fell, and fallen rose no more. 
This fabric, richer than Vicuna gives. 
He wore upon his breast — See Oello ! " 

(He shows Francisco's Scarf.) 

"Lift up thine eyes, see here this figure wrought 
In gold upon — Why thou art trembling — What ! 
Speak to me my daughter ! " 

(To attendants.) " There, tenderly. 
Let her be carried hence, strange humor this, 
1 will know more of it." 

(Exit.) 



93 



JSeneatI) 33Iue ^feies antr iffirag 

3lt Here dwelleth peace and quiet such as lies 
Wnsl)- About the steps of Dusk when far afield, 
tlig:ton'g And he sleeps well for whom the cannon pealed, 
(Bxa!tit And bugles blew their wild, war melodies. 
Now glossy tendrils of the ivy rise 
To clasp his name and wreathe his honored shield, 
The pilgrim seasons here their tribute yield ; 
And stars keep watch with bright unsleeping eyes ; 
And one white shaft, as stainless as his name 
We hold the first, bears witness with this spot, 
That they who met the battle's shock and flame 
For truth and country shall not be forgot. 
Sweet be their rest and ever pure their fame. 
And theirs the glory of the heroes' lot. 



<H 



^ Book of i^ocms 

Sunset Marvelous color ! violet and gold, 
on tilt Rare rose, pale emerald, and tranquil blue, 
Hiber Long radiate streamers of a fiery hue, 

A wealth of Argonaut fleeces fold on fold, 

All mirrored by the river and far rolled, 

In softer splendor than the sky e'er knew, 

Against the fringing willaws that imbrue 

Their blossomy branches in the ripples cold. 

Our oars drop jewels, and our widening wake 

Flecked with bright foam, melts, purpling, into rest. 

The swift-winged kildees silvery circles make 

Against this old, new glory of the West. 

Now dreams hold tryst, and Dusk's handmaidens shake 

Fragrance and dewdrops down on Night's warm breast. 



95 



33meat8 Mxit %km antr (ffifrag 

Cl^e It lies beyond and ever yet beyond ! 
5Sliat= The stars are but bright milestones on the way ; 
tainable The patient climbing feet of eons gray, 

That reach it not, grow weary and despond ; 

Yet doth it draw us with its mystic bond 

Through life, through death, and we its will obey. 

And, gazing thitherward, our souls for aye 

Pass up and onward from old lessons conned. 

Thus is our happiness in endless quest. 

Our Heaven in striving for some higher sooth, 

In going on our everlasting rest 

And all the vigor of immortal youth 

That follows alway with unflagging zest 

The strong, white pinions of the angel Truth. 



a ^ook of ^luems 

Cbc Here in the quiet hills beside the way 
H^Cfi;ertc5 That dips into the valley, lone it stands ; 

^Ott£ie It's doors gape wide, and from their gloom and gray 
The beckoning of unseen hands. 

Tall weeds surround it ashy-crowned and still. 
And from a walnut near the rain-crow calls. 

And one dai-k shadow, sinuous and chill, 
Across the sagging gable crawls. 

The way is o'ergrown where many feet 

Passed up and down ; where oft I climbed to her 

When day had fallen and the fields were sweet, 
Dewy sweet in the twilight's blur. 

Now — woods with buds will brighten, and the leaves 
Drift down in shining showers far and near, 

And afterward a wandering voice which grieves 
The passing glory of the year. 

But nevermore along the hillside path 

To greet me coming shall I see her face ; 

And I am left with but love's aftermath, 
A memory of tender grace. 



97 



^mtafl) ^hu %ltm antr ®rag 

St ^tti Ah, oftentimes I see her kneeling there 
Before the Saviour, and a perfume sweet 
Diffuses from the ointment on His feet 
That she is gently wiping with her hair, 
And to my soul no vision is more fair ; 
Prophetic love that hears the hammers beat 
On cruel nails, and sees the winding sheet, 
And thus the Lord for burial would prepare. 
Oh, Mary, thou hast given the world a deed 
More precious than thy spikenard, keeping still 
Its holy beauty in these far-off years ! 
And burdened hearts, and weary feet that bleed 
Bless thy soft touch. Love's fragrance that doth fill 
The world's great room, the sympathy of thy tears. 



98 



n Book of ^oems 

91 How fair the moon is this cahn Summer night, 
Summer Like some young Qiieen borne in a stately barge 
jl^tj;|)t Upon a clear, deep lake with silvery marge 
And fairy, floating islands snowy white 
Touched with faint tints of iridescent light. 
Meseems she sleeps, and each with pearly targe 
Her maidens hold her loveliness in charge 
That dreams may woo her into realms more bright. 
Come all ye spirits of the dusk and dew, 
Of leaves, of stars, of winds that whisper low ; 
With sweet influences her sleep imbue 
Till in love's ecstacy her pulses glow. 
Soft, soft she passes out into the blue, 
And all the night doth richer beauty know. 



99 



33eneatlj Blue ^km antr ®frag 

(?5ootl I clasp your hands, good brother trees, 
^rotjjer Your welcome is full sweet ; 
CrccB I'm weary of the ways of men, 
I rest me at your feet. 

They call you cold, they call you dumb, 

But they — they cannot know 
The speech we have, the golden speech 

That sets our hearts aglow. 

Men have their little plans and fight. 

And bicker over God, 
You know where'er a flower blooms 

That way the Master trod. 



Siflinitp A soul that strayed in the paths of Heaven, 
A seraph soul on his lonely way, 
Chanting his song in the purple even — 

(A sad, sweet lay) 
Sang : " Let me die for I am aweary, 
Let me darkling fall for my life is dreary." 

Then up from the twilight world at his feet. 
Up from the purple deeps of Even, 

There came a voice, ah, tenderly sweet. 
Into his Heaven : 

" Live for me, love, or my life is dreary. 

Live for me, love, or my way is aweary." 

And flower-like, in a dewy vale. 

All beautiful with love's own grace, 

Thro' bright'ning mists, and lily pale 
He saw her face. 

" O, love, without thee my life is aweary. 

And the paths of God's Heaven are darkly dreary ! 

And nightly he like a star in Heaven, 

All radiant with thoughts of her. 

Looks down thro' the purple deep of Even 
Her worshiper. 

" Oh, love, without thee my life is awear}-. 

Oh, love, without thee my Heaven is dreary." 



Beitcatfj Blue ^feles antr ffi^rag 



Cpc The wind and the leaves all day, all day, 
WirCa The wind and the restless leaves, 
anH tjje Have Iain asleep in a valley deep, 
leabeg In a valley deep where a spirit grieves 
In a v^^ood that is old and gray. 

And bright-browned dreams all day, all day. 

Have walked in that valley deep — 
In the winding miles of the dim-lit aisles, 

In the dim-lit aisles where abideth sleep. 
In the wood that is old and gray. 

And the wind is a woodman bold and gay 
And the leaves are his tawny pack ; 

Hello and hark ! when the wood is dark. 

When the wood is dark and the storm clouds black 

With a rush they are off and away. 

Yet often they frolic at play, at play, 

In that moss-loving valley deep — 
When their hearts are light, and the moon all in white, 

The moon all in white on a cloud-blown steep 
Like a dream-loving maid doth stray. 

And oft in the fragrant calm all day 

The wind and the restless leaves 
Lie fast asleep, in that valley deep, 

In that valley deep where a shadow weaves 
Slumber robes cool and gray. 



CI)C And the bright-browed leaves all day, all day, 
Wixili Walk then in that valley deep, 

atlK ti)t In the winding miles of the dim-lit aisles, 
Icabefi In the dim-lit aisles where abideth sleep 

(Continued) jj^ tj^g ^ood that IS old and gray. 



103 



Mmteiti) Blue ^hm anlr (JKrag 

31 little How fair it is, this little lake of mine, 

Lake This little mirror in God's pleasant room — 

Set round with willows, where primroses bloom 
In whose still depths the white clouds softly shine. 

The lilac sky of sunset and the glow 

Of cumulus peaks here underneath the green 
That wavers downward, in new beauty seen 

Melt into twilight, and the stars below 

Seem like great pearls in purple casket set. 
Or like white cressets in a vale of dreams 
That beckon ever with their misty gleams 

Down into silence where our hearts forget. 

Here sings the yellow-throat: "Follow me! follow 
me," sings 

From leafy coverts dewy cool and still. 

The cardinal flashes by — and halcyon shrill 
Touches the water into widening rings. 

A brook comes hither, wandering down the glade, 
A troubadour of laughter making gay 
The lusty maples, singing all the way. 

And here down-flashing in a bright cascade. 



104 



a iSoofe of iloents 

SI Little Here morning pauses glancing down to see 
JLatlC Her own fair image in this placid deep. 

(Continued) Here silent mists their long night-watches keep 

Weaving wide silver nets of witchery. 

It is a place to linger in to hear 

The message of the wind so gently told 
Beneath thick branches, and communion hold 

With Beauty shepherd of each day and year. 



105 



Mtmati) Mint ^km antr (ffiiag 

CJ)C The sigh of the wind in the trees, 
(0rat)e in The glory of light in the air, 
tbc A day that is quiet and fair — 

JForeSt These are above thee, these 

With the spirit of peace are here 

Over thy nameless sod. 

Here bends the golden -rod. 
The woodpecker taps his cheer. 

Here at the foot of an oak 
Silently taking thy rest. 
Forgotten the hand that was pressed 

Forgotten the voice that spoke. 

Cheerily the cricket sings, 

Sweet is the touch of the Fall, 
Joyous the Flicker's call, 

Happy the passing wings. 

If they could greet thee again 

Would'st thou awake and be glad. 
After the day thou hast had 

Walking the ways of men ? 

Is all of light and of mirth 

Sweet as this lying down? 

Beauty, or wealth, or renown 
Good as this mingling with earth ? 



1 06 



a Booh oC iloents 

(Zri)C Softly the sunlight streams 

tSralJC in Out from the sundown land, 

tl)C Gently an unseen hand 

jForcdt Draws me to night and to dreams. 

(Continued) 

Thee — has it not drawn thee 
On to the ultimate dawn? 
Thou into shadow gone 

Dost thou not trul}^ see? 

Softly the sunlight dies 
In the far sundown land, 
Gently an unseen hand 

Draws me and I arise. 

Cheerily the cricket sings 

Sweet is the touch of the Fall, 
Joyous the Flicker's call, 

Trustful the passing wings. 



107 



Beneati) Blue ^feies anlr ffifiag 

3^11 tl)e Clouds and a misty day, 
9lftcr= Now, with the passing sun 
ffloto Amber and rose for the gray. 
When day is done. 

Here on the margin of night. 

Darkness lying before, 
Peace, and the beauty of light 

When day is o'er. 



io8 



